Hurt
by aishababy
Summary: Wolfram stared at the coffin, watching as his friends and family stood around it grieving, listening to the weeping that filled the room, while holding back his own tears. If you want me to continue this, please review and tell me. See profile for polls.


Wolfram stared at the coffin, watching as his friends and family stood around it grieving, listening to the weeping that filled the room, while holding back his own tears. Unlike everyone else present, he would not cry in public...that was something he couldn't bring himself to do. It wasn't that he didn't want to cry, it was that he didn't want anyone else to see him but the one in the coffin, the only who would not make the blonde prince feel ashamed of his tears. Wolfram didn't want to be here; in this place, with these people, with that coffin. He wanted to run, to hide, to remain unseen as he wrapped himself in guilt, forever drowning in his sorrow.

_Seems like it was yesterday when I saw your face  
You told me how proud you were, but I walked away  
If only I knew what I know today  
Ooh, ooh_

He remembered the last time he saw him, it was right after he had married, right before he was to have his first dance with his new spouse, the man had said he was so proud of him, kissing the flustered boy on the cheek. Wolfram was in a hurry being late already, and had harmlessly brushed him off, without knowing that it would be that last time he saw the older man for awhile, seeing as he was to go on a mission while the blonde prince was on his honeymoon. If only he had known, he would have spoken properly with the man before he left, he would have told him to be careful, and to come back safe, as he used to before all this trouble had come into their lives.

_I would hold you in my arms  
I would take the pain away  
Thank you for all you've done  
Forgive all your mistakes  
There's nothing I wouldn't do  
To hear your voice again  
Sometimes I wanna call you  
But I know you won't be there_

Wolfram remembered the day when the messenger had arrived , it was two months after his wedding and honeymoon, during that time there had not been any contact between the soldier and his family, raising alarm from his mother, but sadly, that was all. Then the messenger came, his face sullen, his uniform torn and muddied in places, his feet dragging the ground as he walked toward the dinner table. Wolfram felt his chest tighten as he saw that the messenger was carrying a sword...his brother's sword. No one else seemed to notice the well-worn object but him. The room fell silent as the messenger turned his now scarred face to the blonde consort, bowing to his king as an absentminded gesture, before walking around to Wolfram's chair to kneel before the small male. Bowing his head the messenger raised the sword he had been holding, presenting it to the now ashen prince.

_Ohh I'm sorry for blaming you  
For everything I just couldn't do  
And I've hurt myself by hurting you_

He remembered the messenger's words as he had taken the sword from him, stunned into silence, "Your highness, it is with a heavy heart I tell you, Lord Weller died two days ago when a group of humans ambushed our party as we were returning from a successful mission to Caloria." Wolfram remembered his mother's cry, weeping and screaming her pain, he remembered Greta's whimpers as she felt the loss of her Uncle, he remembered Gwendal's face as it hardened to stone as he held his mother, he remembered Gunter as he sat there horrified at the news. But most of all he remembered Yuuri, sitting there quietly, tears running down the sun-kissed face as he stared wide-eyed at the sword in his consort's hands.

_Some days I feel broke inside but I won't admit  
Sometimes I just wanna hide 'cause it's you I miss  
And it's so hard to say goodbye  
When it comes to this, oooh_

Wolfram had sat there watching all the happenings around him with unseeing eyes, taking the news in, yet refusing to believe that his brother was dead. His heart ached, his head pounded, his stomach clenched, remembering the news he had learned just two day ago...the day that Conrad died. The small blonde held the sword to his chest, his eyes remaining blank, he trying to recall the last time he saw his brother alive. His eyes widened as he remembered that he had never said goodbye. He had never looked his brother in the eye during the whole exchange between them, he had only nodded when his brother questioned him, no words were imparted to Conrad.

_Would you tell me I was wrong?  
Would you help me understand?  
Are you looking down upon me?  
Are you proud of who I am?_

It was then that Yuuri had reached out to Wolfram, touching him gently on the shoulder, as if he would break if handled too roughly. The couple locked eyes for a brief moment, reading the other person's needs while taking into account what needed to be done. Yuuri reached a hand out to his spouse again, lightly taking Wolfram's smaller hands into his, the sword laying securely on Wolfram's lap. The smaller male smiled wearily at his darker couterpart, mentally preparing himself for the work ahead of him. Yuuri took one of Wolfram's hands, and reaching for his godfather's sword, wrapped his spouse's hand around the hilt with his own. It was then that Wolfram had felt for the first time that he could cry and no one would mock him, no one would be disgusted at his weakness, no one would pity him. But he didn't cry, he refused to, not in front of his family, not in public like this. Smiling up at Yuuri as he handed the taller man the sword, Wolfram breathed deeply to hold back his tears.

_There's nothing I wouldn't do  
To have just one more chance  
To look into your eyes  
And see you looking back_

His hands felt cold for the first time, as he held Greta in his lap, gently rocking the fifteen-year-old as she cried. Yuuri had left their daughter's room hours ago, to aide Gwendal in the preparations for the funeral, leaving Wolfram to deal with the distraught princess, as she grieved. He didn't mind, being with Greta was one of the only joys he had these days with Conrad's funeral fast approaching, it was easier focussing on someone else's grief instead of his own, and Yuuri was grateful that he did. It took some of the stress away, focussing on everyone's needs, and it kept him busy, allowing him to sleep at night, to drive the stress of the day away, to keep what little hope Wolfram had left alive.

_Ohh I'm sorry for blaming you  
For everything I just couldn't do  
And I've hurt myself, ohh_

The sword was given to Wolfram as a parting gift from his brother, something that he might be remembered and cherished by. It should have gone to Yuuri. He was the one who loved Conrad the way a brother should, he was the one who went to him when he needed help, he was the one who meant everything to everyone. Not Wolfram. Not spoiled Wolfram with the bad temper, not Wolfram with the ridiculous lack of control, not Wolfram with the vicious prejudice against humans. He didn't deserve this last show of affection. he had been the worst brother to Conrad, he was the wretched one of his family, so unlike everybody else.

_If I had just one more day  
I would tell you how much that I've missed you  
Since you've been away  
Ooh, it's dangerous  
It's so out of line  
To try and turn back time  
_

Yuuri found Wolfram crying on the balcony, his tears staining his pink nightgown as he curled in on himself, clutching his abdomen in pain. Looking down at his spouse's stricken face, Yuuri knelt beside the smaller male, gingerly wrapping his arms around the fragile shoulders, rocking him as a mother would her child. "I know it hurts Wolfram, and I know that you feel like everything is your fault, but no matter how much you dwell on what you never did it won't bring him back."

Clutching his stomach tighter Wolfram buried his face in Yuuri's shoulder, allowing the taller man to carrying him to bed, humming softly as his consort cried.

_I'm sorry for blaming you  
For everything I just couldn't do  
And I've hurt myself by hurting you  
_

Wolfram stood at the grave, his hands holding tightly to his brother's sword, the slight swell of his stomach pressing against the worn scarbbard. His throat tight as he read the engraving on the headstone, the last thing Conrad had written, a letter to his little brother that was delivered after his death.

_**  
All for one and one for all  
My brother and my friend  
What fun we had  
The time we shared  
Brothers 'til the end.**_**  
**_**  
**_**  
**


End file.
